


First Impressions

by QueenofBaws (Sisterwives)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, Not Zemyx, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterwives/pseuds/QueenofBaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First impressions might not always be correct...but in the Organization, what you see is typically what you get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

He was still pretty new to the whole rigmarole, but he knew enough to drag his feet as he headed to the Grey Room. The few assignments he'd had so far had not been fun in the  _slightest_ , and he'd returned from each exhausted and bored out of his wits. This simply was  _not_  the type of job for him. Adding insult to injury were all the others--he was still having some issue keeping track of them all, what with all the X's and darkened glowers--who had apparently come into the world as a packaged set. They all knew each other, it seemed, from somewhere else, some _time_  else, and were terribly quick to treat him as an outsider, considering it had been  _they_  who recruited _him_.  
  
He didn't know much about most of them, other than the rumors that were spread--and oh did they spread like wildfire within the Castle's walls--most opting to keep to themselves and look down their noses at him. Of those he'd been out on jobs with, Xigbar and Axel really seemed the most, well,  _bearable_. They were laid back, they joked around, and if nothing else, they weren't half the snobs the others were.  
  
 _Founders_ , he had to remind himself, the higher ups were the  _Founders_  of the Organization. They were old, they were stuck-up, and they were  _unpleasant_. Not that he could say he had been particularly well acquainted with them.   
  
Which was precisely why he was momentarily filled with hope when he stepped into the room and took note of the tiny cloaked figure reclining nearby. He'd run into Xigbar in a hall earlier, had bemoaned being summoned for yet another pointless mission, and had asked for whatever information on his alleged partner, the elusive Zexion, he could afford. The Freeshooter had snorted a laugh and clapped him on the back, shaking his head as he offered a goodnatured "Good luck with  _that one_ , squirt" and disappeared once more. But now, sizing up the seated Nobody, Demyx had to figure that Xig had been messing with him. He  _had_  to have been, this guy was a serious pipsqueak.  
  
As though reading his mind, or simply having felt intrusive eyes boring into him, Zexion looked up from the massive book on his lap, leveling his gaze with him. And if Demyx had still had a heart--he still had his suspicions, but no one here ever paid him much mind--it would've soared. Not only was Zexion a little guy, he was a  _baby_. He'd spent all this time under the impression that  _he_  was the youngest among the cloaked ranks, but it seemed that wasn't the case at all. How bad could this guy  _be_ , really? By the looks of him, he was probably still missing a few of his permanent teeth. All of the morning's reservations flew out of him as he approached the couch, doing very little to hide the amicable smile spreading across his features. "Hey! Zexion, right? I'm--"  
  
"Number IX," came the steely voice, freezing Demyx's words in his throat and the marrow in his bones. Zexion watched him carefully, paying particular attention to the hand the blond had stuck out in a welcoming gesture. It became obvious at once that he had no intent of returning it, but the strange juxtaposition of the delicate face and harsh voice kept him rooted to the spot. "I'm well aware of who you are. For future reference, I would suggest you refrain from addressing anyone who outranks you by anything other than their number. It's a sign of respect, and quite honestly, I don't remember expressing any sort of familiarity with you that could've possibly led you to believe we'd be on friendly enough terms for you to speak to me so informally."  
  
"Uh," came his articulate response. He had not expected this.   
  
A corner of Zexion's mouth turned up, though the expression resembled a smile about as much as his book resembled a sandwich. "Do you have any experience with recon missions, then?"  
  
Ever the optimist, Demyx bounced right back, banking on the possibility that they had simply gotten off on the wrong foot. "Not really," he admitted openly,  gesturing airly with a hand as he thought about it. "It's mostly been--"  
  
"Fantastic." The statement was punctuated by the dusty thump of the book as Zexion closed it, the gigantic tome dissipating as if it had never been there, to begin with. "Now  _I'm_  training the newcomers, hmm? Wonders never cease." With one impossibly fluid movement, he was on his feet and halfway across the room, lazily glancing over his shoulder, "I hope you don't plan on dawdling, IX. We don't have all day."  
  
Demyx sincerely doubted that, and not just because the concept of time in this odd twilight world still perplexed him. All the same, he anxiously ruffled the back of his hair, lifting his shoulders in an earnest shrug. "Haste makes waste, y'know!" he pointed out, grinning in what he hoped was a fetching enough way to inspire a chuckle from the other.  
  
It had quite the opposite effect, however, and as Zexion turned to him, eyes narrowed and face incredulous, he realized this was not at all going to be a good time. The smaller Nobody shook his head, muttering something just quietly enough that he could still hear the venom in it--" _Neophyte_ "--crossing the room to discuss the mission particulars with Saïx.   
  
"No rhymes! Gotcha!" Demyx called after him, shooting off a playful, joking half-salute, but his grin fell once Zexion had his back to him. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling with a quiet groan, throwing his arms out to his sides. Xigbar's warning came back to haunt him as he heaved a heavy sigh, trying to drown out the frustration threatening to overwhelm him. Zexion could be as rude and impatient as he wanted. He could force Demyx to deal with his attitude and his snide remarks, because there was one thing he  _couldn't_  force him to do.  
  
 _Work_.  
  
Slowly but surely, his usual smile found its way to his lips, and he didn't have to pretend to laugh to himself as he joined his would-be tutor.


End file.
